


Pinwheel

by PrairieDawn



Series: The Importance of Choosing the Right Pediatrician [5]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Autistic Spock, Baby Spock, Domestic, F/M, Gen, I-Chaya - Freeform, LLF Comment Project, Telepathy, Trans Female Character, Vulcan Betrothal, redinstead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-04-17 16:59:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14193513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrairieDawn/pseuds/PrairieDawn
Summary: As the boys grow, Sarek and Amanda guide them toward becoming their best selves while learning to respect the people they are becoming.Solomon (once Sybok) is now seven going on eight, Spock is just under two, and Michael (whose family still lives in ShiKahr) is five.





	1. Extraordinary Boys

**Author's Note:**

> Partly as a nod to Autism Acceptance month (#redinstead) this installment of the series takes a look at some of Spock's autistic characteristics. My entire family are either autistic (two of us, maybe three) or cousins (SPD and ADHD)--but that doesn't mean I won't make mistakes in my portrayal. Remember, autism looks a little different in each of us.
> 
> The lovely artwork that will grace this piece was made by Hanasheralhaminail.
> 
> Unfortunately, after several tries I haven't figured out how to make it appear here. I'm getting help and hope to have it up within a day or two.

When it rained in ShiKahr, it rained. Fat drops blatted against the roof and windows, almost drowning out the sudden sound of crying from Solomon’s room. Amanda checked  
the time on the casserole in the oven and walked as briskly as she could across the toy strewn floor.

Spock’s cries were already subsiding by the time she reached his room. Solomon was curled up next to him on the floor. She’d have to have that talk with him again about overusing his telepathic talent to protect Spock from sensory overload. He did need to have some exposure to loud noises or he’d never calibrate…

She stopped. And smiled. Spock was tucked next to his brother’s side, staring raptly as Solomon blew on a shiny red pinwheel. Between breaths, Sol looked up at her and whispered, “I’m teaching him to meditate.” Another breath to keep the pinwheel moving. “I made this in math time at school.” Another blow. “To use instead of a candle.”

Amanda kept her voice low, not quite a whisper. “Good idea. A candle isn’t the best thing to have around a toddler.”

He nodded back, allowing himself the barest soft smile. She tiptoed back out of the room, glad to see them getting along after the morning’s discovery that Spock had destroyed Sol’s Lego shuttlecraft and eaten the running lights.

 

“Is Spock autistic?”

Amanda had been rolling the question around in her mind for months, afraid that to ask would be somehow shortchanging her son or projecting her human expectations on a child whose mental structures were more Vulcan than human. Spock sat on the floor of the pediatric exam room, fascinated by the patterns her paisley skirt made when he looked at them through his spread fingers.

Dr. Lewis Schoenbein smiled down at the toddler. “Do you want the long answer or the short one?”

“Do you have time for the long answer?” Amanda didn’t want to take advantage of the fact that they were becoming friends to monopolize his work time.

Lewis nodded reassurance at her. “I do, and it’s a good thing, because there really isn’t a short answer. If we use human criteria to assess him then yes, absolutely, he displays a neurotype on the autism spectrum. But then, so do most Vulcans, measured by human standards, for a lot of different reasons.”

“So his behavior is typical for a Vulcan?”

Lewis shook his head. “Vulcans don’t describe a specific neurotype for autism, but they do recognize sensory processing and mental synthesis disorders, which T’Zir has been guiding you in helping Spock learn to work around. Helping him to program his own brain to work for him. What does she tell you?”

Amanda considered. “His vision is his strength. He prefers to interact with visual patterns. His hearing is...his brain expects to hear at human levels, but receives information from Vulcan ears, so most sounds feel painfully loud to him. His tactile systems are Vulcan normal...which means I have to remember he responds to touch more like Sarek than like me. And he has a hard time focusing on one thing at a time. He wants to parallel process more than he can, and that frustrates him.”

“Seems like you have a good handle on your son. Both of them. Remember, Solomon’s talent can act like kind of sensory processing disorder too. So, on to your assignment for the next 100 days. Spock is at about the age at which we expect Vulcan children to begin communicating verbally. You said he hasn’t said any words at all?”

She shook her head. “He shows no interest. If he wants something he uses gestures or gets it himself--he’s even tried projecting images telepathically, which can’t be easy, rather than use his voice. I think he doesn’t like the sound of his own voice. Should I try to close off the family bond to make him talk?”

“Certainly not! Use it. Get Solomon or Sarek to help you when they’re home. You might not be able to project the way words feel and sound when they come out of your mouth, but that should be literal child’s play for Sol. That and...you might want to try signing with him. That will get him used to formal grammar, and visual languages have a grammatical structure closer to image telepathy.”

There was another uncomfortable subject she needed to broach. “About Sol…”

Lewis looked up from his data pad. “What’s up?”

“I think he overheard his father discussing the issue with finding him a bondmate a few months ago.”

“Is he worried?”

“Not exactly. I think he took matters into his own hands.”

He set the pad down to lace his fingers over one bent knee. “You think Solomon has bonded with someone.”

“He’s been friends with a little girl for about a year now, and at their last playdate she casually mentioned that they were married.”

“That’s typical for the age.”

“She then proceeded to explain the concept of Vulcan bonding to me in a lot more detail than I would expect a seven year old to know. More detail than I thought even Solomon understood. She didn’t seem to know any of the more explicit details, but she did tell me that Solomon would die if he didn’t get married and she didn’t want him to marry anybody else because, and I quote, he’s the best boy in the whole world. Obviously I can’t assess whether they’ve bonded already or only plan to.”

“Have you spoken to her parents?”

“Yes. They’re not exactly thrilled. But I can’t give them any answers about risks to their daughter. I told Solomon and Malkie that bonding was a formal occasion and he needed to wait until all the adults had gotten together to make plans.”

“You think he’ll listen?”

She sighed. “If he thinks the adults are being reasonable, he does what he’s told. The moment he thinks you’re not acting in his best interest though, he does exactly what he wants to do. As far as he’s concerned, we’re dubiously trustworthy consultants, not superiors.”

“Then I’d work quickly. Get in touch with your clan matriarch and schedule a meeting. I mean, as a fellow human I might be prejudiced, but I think Sol could do a lot worse than a human mate.”

“Thanks, Lewis,” she said. “How are things going with T’Zir, by the way?”

Lewis ducked his head. “We’re taking it slow. Dayal’s death was hard on T’Zir. She’s...you know he was lost.”

Amanda shook her head. “What happened?”

“Aircar accident. Sudden downdraft slammed it into the side of a mountain. He died almost instantly.”

Dying alone was an entirely different kind of dying for a Vulcan, the katra lost to the winds, unable to provide solace and wisdom to the living. “That’s terrible,” she said. Spock curled himself up a little away from them both, disturbed by the change in the emotional temperature of the room.

“Like I said, we’re taking it slow.” He paused. “I don’t think it’s escaped her understanding that if we were to…” he trailed off. “Some day she’d lose me too.” He blinked himself free of his musings and added, “So, there’s a picnic up at the school on the weekend. Will you be bringing the boys?”

Amanda tapped Spock’s shoulder to get his attention and waited for him to raise his arms, then lifted him smoothly to her hip. “I imagine so. Depends on how crowded it ends up being.”

“See you then.”

She left the clinic and called an aircar to take them home. Spock did not like the aircar, but it was too far to walk, especially during ShiKahr’s brief rainy season, when thunderheads could spring up at a moment’s notice and drench both of them. She settled him into the car’s toddler seat and strapped him in while he fussed and tried to thwart her efforts to capture his arms, and the driver gave her side eye for having such a great big child who appeared to have no self control. 

Amanda swallowed her embarrassment and sat quietly during the mercifully short ride. When they arrived, the driver turned not to her, but to Spock, standing at her side with the fabric of her skirt twisted into one anxious fist. “You are old enough to control your behavior. Do not cause me to endure such a display again.”

Spock understood nothing of his statement except that he had displeased the driver. His lip pushed out into a pout and buried his face in her side. Amanda pressed her lips into a line. “Spock is quite tall for his age and is not yet two. The sound of the aircar hurts his ears. If it is too difficult for you to encourage his progress as he makes it, please request to be placed on another route.” Her indignant march inside was necessarily slowed by the toddler attached to her leg, but she had gotten the point across. Arrogant young people without kids were the same on every planet, it seemed.

It took the rest of the afternoon for her to draft and redraft an email to T’Pau concerning the situation with Sol and Malkie. The two of them were at the Lorenzes house until dinner, which gave her Spock’s naptime to tidy up the house for Sarek’s return home tomorrow.

It was a credit to both of Sol and Malkie that after sprinting through the garden to the back door, they stopped, pulled it open quietly, and fairly tiptoed in. “May Malkie stay for dinner, Mother?” Sol asked.

Amanda readied herself to say no, but shrugged instead. “If it’s all right with her mother. But she needs to go home right after. You’re both so covered in dust that you’re practically blonde, and you, Sol, will be spending enough time in the sonic shower to get all of it out of your hair and still go to bed at a reasonable hour. Your father is coming home tomorrow and I won’t have him thinking I’m raising you feral.”

They pulled faces at each other, but tiptoed off to the fresher to wash their hands and faces and returned wearing two of his clean tunics over their undoubtedly still filthy bodies, but at least they were presentable enough to eat at the table.

“And where did you put the dirty clothes?” she reminded.

“In the clothes fresher, of course,” Sol said solemnly before walking fake-casually back toward his room to turn his lie into the truth.

She set Malkie to laying the table and put dinner on, the usual haphazard fusion of human and Vulcan cuisines, this time Vulcan style roasted root vegetables alongside falafel. Sol took a while in returning, but arrived with a still slightly groggy Spock gripping the hem of his tunic. Amanda lifted Spock into his booster seat and started breaking his falafel into pieces to cool it while the older children served themselves.

“I sent a letter to T’Pau today,” she said between bites.

“What did she say?” they said in excited, eerie unison.

“She has not yet responded.”

“What about father?” Sol said.

“Your father is in favor of your scheme, provided T’Pau finds the two of you to be compatible and provided your parents approve.”

Spock ate exactly three fragments of falafel and all of the purple roots, but none of the others, then began experimenting with gravity by dropping the remainder, one at a time, to the floor. The other two punctuated their meal with bouts unexplained giggling. She hoped they were getting it out of their system before Sarek returned home.

Malkie hugged Sol before she left for home. Amanda sighed. She’d need to coach the two of them on proper behavior before they met with T’Pau. The evening was consumed with cleaning Spock in the sink while Sol took a sonic shower. Once the boys were well scrubbed, she read to them from The Phantom Tollbooth for half an hour, Sol hanging on her every word, Spock carefully twirling Sol’s pinwheel with one pudgy finger. Sol settled onto his meditation mat, sans candle, and closed his eyes. Spock squirmed out of Amanda’s arms to kneel across from him, still clutching the pinwheel. She would check on the two of them in a few minutes. Sol claimed Spock could follow him into a passable meditative state, but she had no way of verifying. 

She returned twenty minutes later to find Spock asleep, as expected, unfortunately on top of the pinwheel, which was crushed out of shape. She scooped him up, took him to his room, and laid him on his mat on the floor, the crib having been abandoned about ninety days ago when he learned to scale the sides and promptly fell and broke a wrist. She lay the crunched pinwheel on Sol’s dresser, figuring they’d be able to construct a new one tomorrow.

 

Spock’s shrieks in the morning were uncharacteristically piercing, and she stopped only to pull on a robe before dashing into his room to find him not there. Her heart leapt into her throat. It had been several months since the last major medical crisis, but that one had been fulminant leukemia and a four day hospital stay, which Spock had only tolerated because Sol moved into his hospital room for the duration.

She hurried to Sol’s room to find him curled on the floor, shrieking despondently while holding the remains of Sol’s pinwheel. Sol had made it to a sitting position, but he was not quick to rise in the morning. “Mother?” he said, worry evident in his voice.

She dropped to the floor and rolled Spock’s rigid body into her arms, his distress flowing into her mind, sharp and desperate, but without the echo of physical pain, thankfully. A corner of her mind noticed she was getting awfully good at reading the kids’ projections for a psi-latent human. Sol joined her in a moment, adding groggy agitation quickly schooled into intentional calm. He plucked the pinwheel out of Spock’s grip and pictured it whole and spinning, not bothering with verbal platitudes until the toddler’s eyes opened and he reached for the imaginary toy, which was plainly visible in their bedroom, clear as a hologram.

“That’s impressive, son,” she said.

Sol shrugged. “I made a dragon at school. It was much more impressive.”

“Why do you think so?”

“It was Jin’s dragon.” And with that episode of second graders being cryptic, Amanda extricated herself from the tangle of child-limbs and returned to her room to get ready for the day.

 

T’Pau’s response to her letter arrived just after lunch, while Sol was off at school, and just after she received notice that Sarek was at the spaceport and would be home before the end of the school day with a surprise for the children. “I-Chaya has been in the family for many years, and my great uncle is no longer well enough to care for him,” he had said. “I have arranged for his accommodations to be delivered and assembled before I arrive.”

It was then she noticed that there were workmen in the back garden assembling a large, cavelike shelter. Talak and Sem had a shelter like that in their yard in which their sehlat lounged when it wasn’t draped across their bed. They had complained that they had bought a much larger bed to fit the spoilt old girl, who would not let them sleep without her, but that the grit she brought to bed with her meant they had begun sleeping fully dressed.

Sarek was bringing home a sehlat. 

It wasn’t that family sehlats were likely to be a hazard to the children, despite weighing a good hundred kilos and looking like a cross between a brown bear and a saber toothed cat. They were about as intelligent as an Earth gorilla, empathic, and fiercely protective. But when they chose to associate with Vulcan families, they required nearly as much care and attention as a child, and their protectiveness could prove hazardous to any threatening...oh, of course.

The acts of vandalism committed by the local brand of extremists had been infrequent, but still frightening, and there had been a particularly unpleasant one just before Sarek had left on his diplomatic mission, a blizzard of slips of paper blown into the playground of the Montessori school, extolling the virtue of Vulcan purity and warning against contaminating philosophies. The papers had been coated with a poisonous compound that, while not lethal, had caused vomiting and diarrhea in the children who had touched them and then touched their mouths or eaten without washing their hands.

She turned her attention to T’Pau’s letter.

Lady Amanda,

I believe that subjecting the human child and her parents to a trip to Gol at this time would be excessively trying. I will be visiting ShiKahr in four days, and can arrange my schedule to meet with the children and assess their compatibility. Expect me at noon.

T’Pau

 

She always was an efficient communicator.


	2. I-Chaya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarek brings I-Chaya home to meet the children.

Sarek did beat the children home, but only just.

He arrived in a groundcar, a two seater with an open compartment at the back that had been modified to safely restrain the sehlat for travel. She caught him in a scandalous embrace on his way around to the back of the vehicle. “Wait outside a moment,” he said, crawling into the back to undo the sehlat’s restraints. “These are only to keep him safe in the moving vehicle. A sehlat is not to be restrained for convenience.”

She had underestimated the creature’s size. It was considerably larger and heavier than Sarek, and its teeth were easily twenty centimeters long. It regarded her with narrowed eyes. “Do I need to give you something of mine for him to smell?”

“There is no need. It senses that we belong to each other.”

The sehlat waited for Sarek to vacate the compartment before exiting with regal slowness. Once its feet were on the ground, it stretched magnificently, then padded forward to sniff and nuzzle her chest. It raised its face to rub its soft fur along her cheek, and it’s powerful, alien mind brushed against hers so she startled, but felt herself steadied by Sarek’s presence and his hand on her shoulder. She felt puzzlement and eagerness from the creature, then it loped away to paw once, expectantly, at the door.

“He feels and smells baby on you,” Sarek explained. The sehlat padded into the house behind Sarek, following him into Spock’s room, where he lay sprawled in his favorite nap posture, butt up in the air, half on, half off his sleeping pad on the floor. The sehlat, apparently sensing his place, flopped down next to Spock, rumbling.

She could hear the children outside in the garden. There would be at least three of them today, Sol, Malkie, Jin and possibly Tassy and Michael, depending on the weather. After putting a pitcher of water and cups out on the table, she peeked out the window to the back garden. It was all five. Jin and Michael had already crawled into the sehlat’s shelter to explore. She hoped the scent they would leave would tell the creature that they were welcome friends, not threats.

Sarek took a seat at the dining room table. “The children are...exuberant,” he said, presumably noting the noise level outside.

“The rainy season leaves the air cool enough for the non Vulcan children to run around. How did the negotiations go? Did you and Jeff Burnham manage to get something workable hammered out for the joint colony?”

“It goes, but slowly,” Sarek allowed. “Has Spock spoken yet?”

Amanda shook her head. “No, but he is beginning to show interest in controlling his bodily functions. Lewis and T’Zir suggested a signed language, since it seems he’s disturbed by the sound of his own voice. Temporarily, of course.”

“Of course.” Sarek failed to sound convinced. “I see Solomon continues to improve. It is gratifying that he grows more tolerant of group activities.”

Amanda nodded. “Especially as he will probably not settle here as an adult.”

“Indeed.” He poured himself a small glass of water.

She slid into the seat next to him and offered her fingers for a decorous kiss, then rested her head on his shoulder. “T’Pau is coming in four days to determine whether Sol and Malkie are compatible.”

“Solomon and Malkiah are bonded.”

She lifted her head to look at him. “You’re sure?”

Sarek nodded. “The formalities must be observed, of course. I am gratified that you have initiated the process. And I regret that my frequent absences leave you to navigate the intricacies of Vulcan culture on your own.”

“I manage just fine, though it would have helped to have had you around when I had to talk to Birdie and Eli about it.”

“Why did you not delay?”

“Eli brought it up at work. He was concerned that Solomon might have been coerced in some way.”

“Coerced? Are there concerns that Solomon is taking advantage of other children? If so…” He paused. “I see. Yes. Malkiah does have a forceful personality, does she not?”

The flock of tornadoes tore into the house, four of them, a short gap and a tiny straggler, running full out, so intent on catching the older children she didn’t see Sarek’s abandoned chair, which he had vacated in order to stand guard outside Spock’s door, presumably to ensure no children were dismembered by a startled sehlat. 

Michael landed flat on her bottom, stunned, a trickle of red coloring her top teeth and bottom lip. She looked up at Amanda, then at Sarek, and held in her sniffles, her small brown hand reaching up to cover her mouth while a tear rolled down her cheek. Always an intelligent and serious child, her biological father’s daughter, living on Vulcan had rendered her quieter still, an old soul more proficient at emotional control than most of her Vulcan age-mates. Amanda scooped her onto her lap. “Let me see,” she said gently. Michael shook her head. She carried the little girl over to the cooler and pulled out a gel pack for Michael to hold to her split lip.

By the time she thought to check in with Sarek, the sehlat had moved into the sitting room, where he lay on his back,legs in the air, wriggling like a delighted puppy while almost entirely covered in children, Spock awake and straddling his head and the rest stroking his soft, cream colored belly fur. The sehlat, possibly sensing he was needed, carefully extricated himself to approach Michael where she sat with her ice pack on the chair. He laid his large, toothy head in her lap and rumbled at her. Michael scratched behind the sehlat’s ear absently, still pressing the icepack to her lip.

“All right everybody,” Amanda said, breaking up the party. “Full glasses of water. You too, Sol.”

The children dutifully gathered around the table. Sol and Malkie were much less filthy than yesterday, probably because they knew Sarek was coming home. After the rest of them chugged their drinks and returned to harassing the sehlat, Malkie hung back to stand sheepishly next to Sarek. She looked away to assure herself that Sol was occupied, then asked, her voice barely above a whisper, “Sarek, are you mad at me?”

“I do not get mad,” Sarek replied, predictably.

She huffed her frustration, then tried again. “Do you wish I wasn’t in your family?”

“I would have preferred that the two of you had consulted with adults before making what may be an irrevocable decision. However, what is, is.”

“If my mom and dad don’t want me anymore, can I live with you?”

Sarek considered. “You will have to make an effort to become more tidy.”

Amanda swept to the rescue. “Your parents still want you. They’re upset because they’re your parents, and they want you to have the best life you can have, and they’re worried that you’re going to miss out on a lot of what makes being a young adult fun. Dating, and being out on your own, learning who you are by yourself, not just in relation to someone else.” She realized she was explaining as much to Sarek as to Malkie.

Which was good, as apparently her explanation had just rolled into not-understandable to a just turned eight year old. Malkie was no longer looking at them, but had turned to stare wistfully at the other kids and the sehlat on the floor. “Malkie.” Amanda said.

Malkie turned back when her name was called. Amanda continued. “They’re not mad, they’re worried.”  
Malkie hopped off the chair. “They’re not mad, and they’re not worried. They’re disappointed,” she corrected, acid in her tone.

Disappointed was always the worst of all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note: My intention is to present I-Chaya as a nonverbal person, not as a pet. I-Chaya does what I-Chaya wants, and what he wants is to remain with the S'chn t'gai clan for as long as he lives. As far as he's concerned, they belong to him.


	3. Wedding Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T'Pau visits the family to assess Solomon and Malkiah's compatibility and meet Malkiah's parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this rule that when a character tells me something in a draft, I'm not allowed to walk back on it without an incredibly good reason.
> 
> To clarify my belief about the Star Trek 'verse's attitude toward trans people, it is by and large overwhelmingly positive, even on conservative Vulcan. Birdie's problems with her family stemmed from their deep distrust of medical care, which she has not yet explained completely to the author. She was allowed to socially transition at the age of eight, but was not able to physically transition until her late teens, after her growth spurt.

Eli and Birdie Lorenz arrived with Malkie an hour before T’Pau was scheduled to appear. A dozen pinwheels, red and orange and yellow, decorated surfaces around the house, including a bouquet of them on the table, set off with sprigs of brown and gold grasses. Sol and Spock met them at the door, Spock with his usual shy curiosity, furtive glances interspersed with hiding behind the furniture.

Malkie was dressed in a tailored red dress, matching leggings, and white mary janes that were so clean Amanda suspected they were coated with an electrostatic repellant. Her usually wild curls had been wrestled into braids, and her demeanor had somehow been wrestled into a semblance of seriousness. Amanda had done Sol’s hair up into a French braid in an attempt to get it under control, with some success, so that the two of them sitting on the couch next to each other made the appearance of twins photographed through contrasting gels, with Malkie’s red dress and pink cheeks contrasting with Sol’s sandstone robes and faintly green blush.

Amanda led Eli and Birdie to the table. Sarek sat at the table, rod straight and wearing his “If I could avoid this conversation via my death I would do so” face. Birdie, always her daughter’s mother, rested her muscular gardener’s arms on the table and leaned just a little toward Sarek. “I believe I need an explanation of just exactly what my daughter and your son have gotten themselves into.”

Sarek steepled his hands on the table, claiming space. “Before I begin, would you tell me what the children have told you. It might be helpful if I know exactly what misconceptions require correction.”

Eli, for his part, stroked his beard, wearing his patented inscrutable half-smirk. He, like Amanda, was enjoying this much more than he had any right to. Amanda should have made popcorn. She slid into the seat next to him and would have rested her chin in her hand had she not felt the need to project some semblance of formality.

“Malkie said they got married behind the speargrass planting after school a couple of months ago, when she turned eight, because Sol would die if he didn’t get married and she didn’t want him to die because he is her best friend in the whole world.”

“They waited until she turned eight because that was the responsible thing to do,” Eli added.

Birdie shot him a dark look. “Responsible. Yes. I think I understand this to be some kind of mystic mental connection thing?”

“Vulcan children are generally bonded in childhood, around the age of seven in my clan, at as old as fourteen or fifteen in some others, in order to ensure that each enters adulthood with a mate. There are pressing reasons for this, especially for males of our species.” He stopped, visibly distressed to Amanda’s practiced eye. 

She decided to spare him having to discuss pon farr with outworlders himself. “Vulcans have a roughly seven year mating cycle. At its height, the male must mate or he will die. Females also suffer the mating cycle, but are usually able to survive if they are caught without a mate, though they frequently suffer serious psychological damage.”

Sarek broke in. “The mate must be mentally compatible. Solomon’s mind is structured differently from that of most Vulcans due to injuries he suffered as an infant. He cannot form a bond with another Vulcan. It is likely we will have a similar issue with Spock, though for different cause.”

Amanda took her turn. “And human minds are extraordinarily adaptable. We can bond with anything at the drop of a hat, despite most of us not being telepathic ourselves. Essentially Malkie and Solomon took it upon themselves to deepen a link that was already present. And since Solomon doesn’t even need to touch someone to meld quite deeply with them...frankly I’m just glad they didn’t get into a situation they couldn’t safely get through.” She nodded to Sarek, noting that he was getting ready to speak.

“As to whether the link can be broken,” Sarek said. “It would be extremely difficult and painful for both children, and would require they cut off all contact with each other, of any kind, once the link was broken at least until they reached adulthood.”

There was a rustling behind them and suddenly Malkie was at the table, standing between Sarek and Birdie and shouting at them both. “You’re not separating us, that’s why we didn’t ask you first, you’re so scared of him you’d just say no, everybody would say no, it’s not his fault he has a monster in his head!”

Sarek held up a hand to silence her. She shut her mouth, but did not leave the table. “This information does not leave this room.” He waited for Eli and Birdie to acknowledge him with a nod. “Solomon’s mother bound him to what might in human terms be equivalent to a demon. This entity is imprisoned somewhere in space, we do not know where, and seeks to use him to free itself. At this time, the entity is unable to do so, but there is always the possibility that it may begin to influence Solomon’s behavior.”

“Oh this gets better and better,” Birdie huffed. Eli just shrugged at her. “Eli, she’s not going to be able to find out who she really is. She’ll never be just herself. How will she figure out who she really is?”

“Mom,” Malkie said, her voice shaky with unshed tears, “I’ll be okay. I promise. We’ll both be okay.”

“Birdie,” Eli said, his voice uncharacteristically serious and gentle. “Did you know who you wanted to be when you were seven?”

“What are you talking about, Eli? Of course I didn’t know. I was a kid.”

“You knew you were Beatrice and not Benjamin.”

She glared for a moment at Sarek, daring him to make some unkind remark, then turned back to Eli. “That’s different.”

“What did your parents say?”

“They said wait until you’re older. And I got older.”

Eli reached across the table to take her hands. “And you ended up not quite looking the way you wanted to. Now I think you’re stunning, and I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, but I know you would have been happier with your body if your parents had listened to you when you were younger.”

“You’re ganging up on me,” she said. “I just don’t want her to let a boy define her.”

Malkie’s frown was a precise copy of her mother’s. “What does that even mean, mom?”

“It means I want you to be independent. I want you to make choices about your life that aren’t just about what somebody else wants for you.”

Malkie slammed her hands on the table in a fair temper. “I want Sol, mom! And he wants me too.”

“Malkie, you don’t even know what you want.”

Malkie stood on her tiptoes to catch sight of Solomon, who was still sitting rod straight on the couch. “Solomon, come here!”

“Not doing it!” he shouted back. Sarek winced at the casually emotional inflection.

Malkie frowned silently in his general direction for several seconds, then threw up her hands and said, “Fine!” She stomped back to sit next to him on the couch.

Birdie dropped her face into her hands and was quiet for a minute. Finally, she pulled her fingers through her long, dark curls and said, “Okay.”

“Okay what?” Amanda said.

“They listen to each other. They don’t let the other one push them around. I won’t have Malkie become an accessory. Or a tyrant. But she’s stubborn and I think you’re right, unless she were made to forget him entirely, they’d just find each other again anyway.” She turned back to Sarek. “Crazy planet you have here.”

The door chimed.

T’Pau arrived wearing what Amanda thought of as her “business formal” robes, sand colored and calf length, but with elaborate stitching at the hems. The children sat straighter, side by side, accentuating the interplanetary identical twins effect. Sarek escorted her into the house, while Amanda poured the tea.

Eli and Birdie stood when she approached, bowing gracefully. Sarek introduced them in Standard, as Birdie’s Vulcan was inadequate for complex discussions. “Elisha and Beatrice Lorenz. Elisha is a language studies instructor and colleague of Amanda’s at the Montessori school Solomon attends, and Beatrice is a systems ecologist working with the VSA.”

T’Pau bowed to each of them. “I have familiarized myself with your accomplishments and character and given the special circumstances, I see no reason, other than your species, that might cause our clan’s wisdom to be brought into question. That said, it is not as though close association with humans is new to us.”

“Captain Solkar of the T’Plana-Hath was a member of our clan,” Sarek noted, presumably for the Lorenzes benefit.

“Why am I not surprised,” Birdie said.

“Indeed,” T’Pau replied. “What remains is to assess the compatibility of the children.” She turned to Birdie. “This will require that I probe the mind of your daughter. Do you consent?”

“Yes, I suppose. I mean, as long as she does.”

“Understood. Come before me, children.”

They stood, clearly painfully conscious of their dressy clothes and the close scrutiny of their behavior, and walked together to stand before T’Pau, with ten centimeters of decorous space between them. Sol looked, if anything, defiant. Malkie was doing her best Vulcan impression, stock still and expressionless, though her round face looked as though it had been drained of blood.

T’Pau’s expression softened. “I will examine Solomon first, that you may see that you have nothing to fear.”

“I’m not…” Malkie began to protest, but caught back the rest of her sentence lest she be chastized for talking out of turn.

As per her usual with Solomon, she didn’t bother with psi points, but merely stood before him with an intense regard. Malkie stared at the two of them. T’Pau released Solomon after perhaps three minutes, then turned to Malkie. “Are you prepared, Malkiah?”

Malkie nodded, perhaps a little convulsively. T’Pau reached for her face and she released a little involuntary squeak just before they touched, causing Solomon to reach for her hand, then clench his fists at his sides.

T’Pau spent somewhat longer with Malkie than she had with Solomon, perhaps five minutes, then withdrew her hand, catching the girl under the elbow when she looked as though she might faint.

Amanda waited just long enough for T’Pau to move out of her way before collecting Malkie and leading her to the table. Solomon followed anxiously. “Sugar cookies and juice, that’s what you need.” She set a plate and glass in front of both children. Malkie’s face grew a smile by stages. She looked back over her shoulder and turned back to Sol, bouncing slightly in her seat. “Sol, get her to drink something, would you? The adults need to talk.”

Birdie followed Amanda to the sitting room, still casting concerned glances over her shoulder at Sol and Malkie.

Eli and Sarek were already conversing quietly, while T’Pau sat waiting for the women to arrive. Once Amanda and Birdie had found seats, she said, “Solomon and Malkiah both cooperated with the examination. Malkiah is a strong willed child, and somewhat...excitable. However, once I allowed her to demonstrate her proficiency and some...I believe it would best be referred to as artwork, she allowed me to assess her compatibility with Solomon and the bond they have formed. As you hypothesized, Sarek, it is a fully realized life-bond, unbreakable while both parties live. It would still be wise to proceed with a formal betrothal, to ensure that the bond is properly anchored into the regions of the brain that regulate the mating cycle.”

“So it’s a done deal,” Birdie said, a little sourly.

T’Pau met her eyes. “What exists, exists. Solomon and Malkiah are excellently matched. I would hear your concerns, Beatrice.”

“It’s just...they’re babies. How do they know they’re right for each other? I mean, Vulcans are used to doing what they’re supposed to do for all sorts of logical reasons. Humans, we grow up and fall in love. In that order.”

“Usually,” Eli said. “My cousin met her partner when they were ten. I mean, they didn’t start dating or anything until they were older, but they were best friends the whole time. They’re not going to…” he looked over his shoulder to ensure the children were occupied, “hop in the sack next week or anything.” He stopped to consider. “Right, Sarek? T’Pau?”

T’Pau replied primly, “Most bonded couples initiate sexual activity in their mid to late teens, though some wait until their first pon farr, which generally occurs between age twenty-two and thirty.”

“And that’s the thing where Solomon has to consummate the relationship,” Amanda could see Eli struggling with the words, “Or die.”

“Yes. And given the strength of their bond, Malkiah would very likely die with him if they were separated at that time.”

“And none of this can be avoided?” Birdie asked, again.

T’Pau’s lips wrinkled sourly. “An attempt to separate the children would have a sixty-five percent chance of killing Solomon outright and a roughly twenty three percent chance of killing Malkiah. If he were to survive, his mind would seek out the entity to which he is bound, and he would have to be placed in protective custody at Gol for the remainder of his life. Malkiah would suffer irreparable damage to her mind, of a degree I could not predict. Separating the children would be unethical in the extreme.” She paused. “You might find an adept willing to make the attempt. I will not.”

“So we’re stuck.”

“Birdie,” Eli pleaded.

“My eight year old daughter married a seven year old with a demon in his head, who will die if they don’t have sex!”

“In fifteen years,” Eli said.

“I’m not saying I’m going to break them up, Eli. But I have a right to be mad about it.”

Amanda looked up to see Sol and Malkie turned around in their chairs watching them, their faces drained of the happiness that had been there moments before.

Eli stood up and advanced on Birdie, just a step. For a moment, Amanda thought he was going to yell. Instead, he knelt at her feet, took her hands in his, and stared up into her anger reddened face until she met his gaze. “Not at her you don’t.”

She nodded, tears starting to spill down her reddened cheeks, and Eli pulled her against his shoulder.

T’Pau pulled her data pad out of her sleeve. The juxtaposition between her ancient role and the modern technology still struck Amanda as funny. “I can perform the ceremony to complete the bond in forty six days, if that is acceptable?” T’Pau said, standing to take her leave of them.

“It’s...yes, it’s fine,” Birdie said. The other three adults added their agreement and T’Pau took her leave of them. Amanda led her to the door.

That could have gone worse, Amanda thought. Then she looked up to see Sol and Malkie standing behind the couch with shocked, horrified faces. Malkie crossed her arms over her chest, doubled up, and started sobbing. Sol wrapped his arms around her, equally miserable. Amanda herded them into the living room with the adults. They elected to sit in a huddle on the rug, wrapped around each other in a way she knew that Sarek was finding extremely uncomfortable to see, though her human cultural references didn’t interpret it in that context.

“I’m sorry,” Sol said. “I’m sorry I listened to adult conversations. I’m sorry I told Malkie about them.”

Malkie muffled her apology into her sleeve. “I’m sorry I asked him to marry me.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “I didn’t want him to marry somebody else.”

Sarek rose from his chair, swept across the room, and folded himself neatly into the seated posture he used when meditating. “It was not your fault. Either of you. You were bonded when you were six. The day Solomon suffered the seizure at school.”

Malkie sat straight up. “Oh, that’s what that was.”

Eli turned around. “What’s what what was?”

“What?” Malkie said.

“What happened that day?”

“When he fell over during circle time, he kinda grabbed me. So I grabbed back. When they took him away I screamed for half an hour because it hurt. I got punished for being overdramatic. I had to write sentences.”

“I never heard about this,” Birdie said.

Eli explained, “I was told she threw a tantrum. It was taken care of at school. I really never thought anything of it. She was throwing tantrums at least once a week at that point.”

Sol turned to her. “What did she make you write?”

“I will not use others’ misfortune to get attention.”

“That sounds quite unpleasant, Malkiah,” Sarek allowed.

She sniffled. Her face regained a slightly calculating look. “Can we have a bouncy house at our betrothal ceremony? I bet Spock and Lala would both love a bouncy house.”

“Amanda, what is a bouncy house?”

“A large enclosed balloon structure used to diversify children’s exercise routines,” Amanda said.

“A betrothal ceremony is a solemn occasion. A bouncy house would be inappropriate.”

Malkie pouted. “That’s what T’Pau said, too.” Leave it to Malkie to inject party planning into as solemn and potentially terrifying event as a mind meld. Amanda wondered just how much of that extra two minutes was given over to unreasonable requests.

Birdie wiped her eyes and looked at Sarek. “If my daughter has to have a wedding at eight, then she can have a bouncy house.”

“A betrothal ceremony is not a wedding.”

“Don’t split hairs with me, Vulcan. Malkie will have a bouncy house, and a cake, and they will have whatever else they wish. When is Solomon’s birthday?”

“Solomon will be eight Vulcan years old in 58 days,” Sarek said.

“All right, so we combine the betrothal with a birthday party for Solomon so all of their little friends don’t want to get married, or betrothed, or whatever--because they will, trust me on that. And Sol and Malkie get to plan the party.” Malkie threw herself at her mother. Solomon held back shyly, twiddling his hands behind his back. Birdie caught his eye. “You too, Sol. What would you like at your...birthday party?”

His face grew thoughtful for a moment. “Music and dancing. Lots of dancing.”

“Then dancing you will have. Eli, do Mike and Josh still do b’nai mitzvahs?”

“I’ll give them a call. I’m sure they’ll be happy to fly up if they’re free.” He grinned wickedly at his daughter. “With a bouncy house.”


	4. Betrothal Ceremony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sol and Malkie make their betrothal official.

The betrothal ceremony was scheduled to occur at sunrise, in an alcove on the side of Mount Seleya, facing the morning sun. It was a few minutes by aircar to the base, but a thirty minute walk, assuming short legged, drowsy children, and everyone had to be dressed for the occasion.

Which was why Amanda was up three hours before sunrise with Solomon, who had awakened first and had to be restrained from waking his younger brother. “We’ll get Spock up when the rest of us are dressed and ready,” she told him. Spock was sprawled in his favorite sleeping position, lying on his back on the floor at right angles to I-Chaya’s body, his bottom up against I-Chaya’s flank and his legs curved up over the sehlat’s side as though he were sitting in a chair. Solomon scratched behind I-Chaya’s ear, then followed Amanda into the kitchen. I-Chaya disentangled himself from Spock to follow him out, nudged the back door open, and headed outside.

Solomon had finished his breakfast and was putting on his formal robes when Sarek stirred in their bedroom. Amanda had chosen traditional mother’s robes for the day, the better to emphasize her role as Solomon’s adoptive mother.

Sarek emerged, solemn faced. “Not all of those attending will be in favor of this union,” he noted to her. “We will need to be diplomatic.”

“That’s what we’re best at, beloved,” she told him. She sat at her dressing table and allowed Sarek to work his magic on her hair. The up do that resulted emphasized her long neck, while aging her a little...which in this case was not a bad thing. As a human woman of not yet thirty, she was going to need gravitas to deal with the army of elderly aunts who had the right to attend a family betrothal ceremony and would probably make a point of doing so just to underscore their disapproval.

“What did you decide to do with Solomon’s hair?”

Sarek finished placing her last hairpiece, a fabric band embroidered with one of Surak’s quotations, then collected his data pad and flipped to a painted image. “It is a scholar’s braid, in common use about fifteen hundred years ago. I will add the payot that Solomon favors.”

“That looks perfect.” She paused. “Thank you again for not insisting that he cut his hair for the ceremony.”

“My family will be scandalized.”

“Let them be scandalized. They can hardly be more scandalized than they already are. And Rabbi Ginsburg will be delighted.”

“Is she flying in for the ceremony?”

“She is giving a blessing. Apparently Solomon is quite impressive at shul. What did she call him...philosophically rigorous and demanding.”

Gail Ginsburg collected the dozen or so Jewish school aged children living on Vulcan in ShiKahr once a month for shul. Their backgrounds ranged a bit in orthodoxy, but like offworld humans everywhere, families tended to elide minor differences in favor of celebrating the similarities that did exist. Besides, shul thrived on differences of opinion and healthy argument.

Solomon ran into the room. “Are you ready for me yet, father?” he asked.

“Yes. Please take a seat in your mother’s chair.”

She left them to have a little father son time without her interference. Spock, awakened by the movement in the house, walked into the sitting room, yawning, his steps still wobbly with sleep. She got down on her knees beside him. “I have gazpacho and croutons,” she told him, her voice pitched low and soft so as not to hurt his ears.

He finished his elaborate yawn and stretch routine, arms reaching up toward the ceiling, fingers spread, then nodded. “All right, you use the bathroom and I’ll get your breakfast.

He nodded again and toddled off to the bathroom. Amanda put together his breakfast and put it at his place at the table, then waited nearby while Spock clambered up into his booster chair, close enough to catch him if he tumbled, but far enough that her vigilance wasn’t obvious.

The door chimed. That would be Tom. She hurried to the door. It would have been traditional to have Spock and Lala attend the ceremony, but Spock was not ready to face a crowd of potentially hostile relatives, and as the rainy season had given way to the hottest part of the year, Lala wouldn’t tolerate the walk up to the outdoor ceremony. Tom Schoenbein had offered to babysit.

Lala squirmed out of Eli’s arms as soon as the door was open and sprinted for Spock’s room with a loud squeal of “I-Chaya!”

Spock scrunched down in his seat with his hands over his ears. Lala came out of the bedroom, an exaggerated pout on her face. “Where’s I-Chaya?”

“He went outside,” Amanda told her. “Please remember to use your quiet voice, Lala.”

“Tom, don’t let her get away with picking on Spock. She’s bigger than he is and she knows it,” Eli said.

Tom grinned. “We’ll be fine. We’ll meet you at the conference center after the ceremony.”

Amanda took Eli’s elbow. “How’s Birdie doing?”

“Yesterday was all about going back and forth between excited and crying. Today she’s just worried about her coif wilting in the heat.”

“Did she go with the aquamarine A-line?”

“She did. Did Sarek ever come to a decision or did you have to choose for him?”

“I sent his top three to T’Pau and let her pick. He was worrying too much over it.”

“But they’re not vain at all.”

“Vanity is an emotion, Eli,” Amanda said.

Sarek emerged from his room a moment later. “The intent to properly represent oneself in any circumstance is neither emotional, nor frivolous.” He cast an appraising gaze over Amanda, from head to foot. “As I recall, you spent numerous hours selecting exactly the right robes to wear to complement Birdie’s choice of colors and your own body type. With excellent result, I might add.”

“You always know just what to say,” Amanda replied, turning to press her fingers to his in a quick kiss.

“What about me?” Eli protested, half joking.

Sarek looked Eli over. “You look presentable. However, you will find your clothing uncomfortable in the heat.”

“I’ll tell Birdie you said I should go for the short sleeved shirt,” Eli said. “We’ll meet you at the base of the mountain.”

“See you there, Eli.”

Amanda turned once the door had closed on Eli. Tom sat on the floor, Spock sprawled beside him, rifling through a box of plastic tiles of various shapes and colors and commenting with flickering fingers. Spock had taken to signing like he’d found his native language. Amanda couldn’t always keep up with his thirst for words, so he would just coin his own and expect her to memorize them. She’d taken to keeping a file on her data pad just to keep track. Tom, for his part, didn’t seem to have much trouble following her toddler’s gestures. She sat down with them to wait for Sarek and Solomon.

She recognized the tangram cards Tom had brought immediately. Spock was lying on his stomach in front of a card depicting a stylized geometric cat. It didn’t take him long to position the tiles to exactly cover the figure. Tom offered another card. Spock shook his head briefly, then he added, “big fan house,” in his made up gestures.

Tom picked through the stack and offered him the windmill card. Lala ran over, took a look at what they were doing and started to climb Tom’s back. He turned around hurriedly and set her on the floor. “What did we say about jumping on me?”

“You not like it.”

“Close enough. It’s okay to wrestle, just let me know first, okay, Lala?”

Lala scowled her reply.

“Attend, Amanda,” Sarek said. She turned to see her husband and his oldest son dressed in their most splendid robes, Sol’s hair pulled back into an ornate braid with burgundy ribbons worked into it, his perfectly coiled payot bouncing in front of his ears.

“Sol, would you let I-Chaya inside before we go?” she said, rising to head out the door.

“He’s meeting us at the mountain,” Sol said and turned to follow her.

She stopped, her hand on the door. “What do you mean, he’s meeting us there?”

“He left early so he could get there on time. He knows the distance to the mountain, and it is not difficult to explain the concept of sunrise.”

“Sarek?”

“The presence of a sehlat at the children’s ceremony would be considered auspicious. You forget, I-Chaya is not an animal, but a different kind of person.”

“I-Chaya never lets me forget that, love.” With a last wave to Tom and the babies, she headed out the door to catch the aircar.

*

By the time they reached the base of the mountain, the sky was just beginning to lighten, washing out the stars in the eastern sky. “Does the sun rise in the east on Earth?” Sol asked, once he was bundled out of the car.

“Suns always rise in the east, Solomon,” Amanda said.

“Why?”

“Because that’s how we define east.”

“Oh.”

The Lorenzes aircar dropped them off a moment later. Eli had switched to short sleeves under his suit jacket, and Birdie looked statuesque in the flowing pale aquamarine gown she had chosen. Her hair was up in an elaborate coiled confection that had to contain almost as much fixative as hair, giving her an air of formidable grace.

Malkie slid liquidly out of the back seat to sway on her feet for a moment, then stretched and yawned impressively. Birdie pulled a pick out of her bag and steadied her daughter with one hand while delicately teasing her thick curls back into order and poking her coronet of silk daisies back into position. Malkie had chosen a buttercup yellow sundress, with a white cardigan to ward off the predawn chill.

Once she saw Sol waiting at the start of their path, she broke into a grin and ran to him to plant a peck on his cheek. He greeted her distractedly, still peering out across the desert the way they had come.

Sarek’s Vulcan relatives had begun to arrive in singles and pairs, T’Pau among them. She pulled Sarek aside for a quiet conversation.

“Gail!” Birdie shouted, waving. 

Rabbi Ginsburg approached, her tallit in place, but her kippah still folded under her arm. She touched it lightly, by way of reference, and said, “Since I’m here on official business.”

All of the guests had arrived, save one. Amanda walked over to stand next to T’Pau and the children. “I don’t see I-Chaya.” Sol said.

“Are you worried about him?”

Sol looked out over the desert again, searching. “No. He is not in distress. I just cannot see him.”

“He may be hiding nearby. He’s not fond of crowds.”

Sol turned back to Amanda and Malkie. “That may be so.”

T’Pau clapped once, to get everyone’s attention. “We must proceed to the Place of Joining. I warn the outworlders not to interfere in our customs.” She gestured briefly to Rabbi Ginsburg, who slipped forward to take her place next to the Adept.

The priestess and the rabbi turned and walked up the path that wound its way around the mountain. Amanda gestured Eli and Birdie to walk ahead with Malkie, while she and Sarek walked immediately behind them with Sol. The rest of the observers followed in a mostly silent procession, save for the periodic sounding of an acolyte’s gong. In retrospect, Amanda was even more glad she’d left Spock behind. That gong would not have gone over well at all.

She sky gradually lightened as they walked, although the wind remained chill. It would warm rapidly after sunrise, but the nights were quite cool, even in the warmest season. The view was spectacular, the violets and deep pinks reflecting off a few high cirrus clouds contrasting with the landscape just coming out of deep shadow.

They arrived at an amphitheater cut into the side of the mountain. As they arranged themselves, Malkie and her family on T’Pau’s right, Sol with Sarek and Amanda on the left, Amanda caught sight of a pair of Vulcans slightly further up the path, their sand colored robes billowing in a gust of wind. She turned back to attend to the ceremony.

The rest of Sarek’s family, those attending, filed in. Some wore blandly neutral expressions, but a few held their faces with a calculated sourness, slight enough to be deniable, but in reality quite clear in their opposition to the union about to be witnessed.

T’Pau clapped again, once, stilling the murmur that had risen as the witnesses had taken their places. “We here witness a bond which has grown between these two young ones whose souls called, each to the other.” She paused.

Sol, guided by Sarek, took his place before the priestess, kneeling in a formal meditative posture with his hands steepled before him. Malkie knelt opposite him, copying his every move with a practiced grace.

The first sliver of the sun touched the horizon. Light poured into the alcove, bathing the children with vermilion. Rabbi Ginsburg stepped forward and said the traditional blessing for children over the pair, first in Hebrew, then translated into Standard. She stepped to the side.

T’Pau raised her hands, but stopped at a shouted epithet from above. The two robed Vulcans Amanda had noticed earlier strode brazenly into the clearing, armed with large bladed weapons Amanda vaguely recalled as ceremonial decorations from Sarek’s pon farr. They stopped before T’Pau.

The woman spoke in Vulcan. “This ceremony is an insult. Thee would bond an abomination to an outworlder in our sacred space. Desist.”

T’Pau replied in Standard. “I recognize that which exists. The boy is not to be faulted for his parent’s crime. Take thy poorly chosen weapons and leave.”

“Thrice this house sullies tradition and the name of Surak by inviting outworlders to join with it,” the woman continued. Neither put down their weapons.

A low growl, almost more felt than heard, filled the amphitheater. In a single, graceful leap, I-Chaya emerged from his perch in the shadows, where even Amanda had not known he was lurking, to alight on his enormous paws directly between the dais where the children knelt and the armed extremists. He growled, low and menacing, one paw raised, its butcher knife claws gleaming.

Sarek addressed the pair. “If you persist in threatening this family, there is a thirty percent chance that one of you will survive, but only if you successfully murder I-Chaya, a crime against tradition far more severe than the one of which we are accused.”

Amanda was still trying to get her head around “thrice.” Sarek and herself, Solomon and Malkie..unless they considered Spock’s conception and birth a separate affront? She collected herself and stepped away from the confrontation for a moment, backing into the shadows behind the dais, and activated her comlink. “ShiKahr security, this is Lady Amanda Grayson. I need a security team sent to the bonding alcove on Seleya, to collect two armed persons who attempted to disrupt the ceremony.”

“Is there any immediate danger?”

“The individuals are currently being held at bay by a sehlat, but I would appreciate a rapid response.”

“We’ll be right there.”

Amanda switched channels. “Embassy Security, this is Amanda Grayson.”

“What can we do for you, Amanda.”

“There has been a threat on the life of my oldest son and his friend. He is having a birthday party in the embassy indoor gymnasium in six hours. I request additional security be provided for the activity. Please assure that all entries and exits are secure.”

“Thanks for the heads up. We’ll track the situation as it evolves and let you know if you need to reschedule.”

“I would like to avoid rescheduling if at all possible,” she said. “I must attend to the children now. Keep me posted.” She broke the connection.

I-Chaya advanced slowly on the intruders, moving them out of the space directly in front of the dais. They had not dropped their weapons, but Amanda thought that might be less out of continued aggressive intent and more out of a fear that if they lowered them, I-Chaya might eat them. Come to think of it, their fears might be well founded.

“Honored guests, come forward.” T’Pau gestured to the family, who were still frozen in place around the perimeter of the amphitheater. Timidly at first, then more briskly, they skirted past I-Chaya and her prisoners to form a tight circle around T’Pau and the children. “The ceremony will not be disrupted by unsavory elements.” She produced a length of silky fabric, embroidered with elaborate calligraphy and wrapped it in an elaborate pattern around the childrens’ hands, binding them across the space between them so that they were connected, but not touching. She then rested her hands on both childrens faces and was silent for a count of about ten. Releasing them, she said, first in Vulcan, then repeated in Standard, “Parted and never parted, never and always, touching and touched. These two are betrothed, one to the other.”

She unwound the fabric from the children’s hands and touched each on the shoulder to rouse them from their reverie. “The ceremony is ended.”

The two of them leapt toward each other and into a crushing hug, Malkie crying openly. One of Sarek’s sourest looking older relatives opened her mouth to make some sort of critical remark, but was silenced by Sarek’s uncle Sovar. “The cause is sufficient, I believe.”

Amanda leaned in to her husband, both of them still keeping a close eye on the intruders, who had been surrounded by acolytes whose appearance had been so silent and unobtrusive she hadn’t even seen them arrive. “Sarek, what did she mean by thrice?”

Sarek folded his hands in front of him and pushed his shoulders back almost smugly. “There is a rumor that my grandfather entered into an intimate relationship with your Zefram Cochrane when our peoples first met.”

Amanda had to stifle a laugh. The idea wasn’t as funny as all that. She felt she must just be expressing her relief that no one was hurt. “Really,” she said.

“The rumor stems from Solkar’s acceptance of a well documented handshake from Cochrane, as well as from their continued proximity over the first few years after contact, prior to Cochrane’s disappearance.”

“Doesn’t take much to start a rumor,” she replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note: Because I subscribe to the Amanda Grayson is of Jewish ancestry hypothesis, and because Solomon has latched onto Judaism as a sort of emotional protection against his personal demon, several Jewish elements have entered the fic as it stands.
> 
> I am not myself Jewish, though I have tried to do my research and remain vague where I felt I could not be precise. I welcome comments and suggestions from any Jewish readers I might have (and might make additions or changes in response to improve the story.)
> 
> Also, yes, Gail Ginsburg is a descendant of the Supreme Court justice.


	5. Strategic retreat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of a violent attack, thankfully averted by I-Chaya, the family meet at the embassy conference center to consider their future.

“We are sending a diplomatic aircar to collect you and the children and bring you directly to the Embassy.”  The voice on the other end of the line sounded shaken.

“And Thomas and the little ones?”  Amanda prompted.

“They were collected from your home as soon as word was received of extremists having reached the sacred site on the mountain.  We took them to the conference center, which has been secured. Under the circumstances, we think it would be unsafe for the gathering you planned to proceed.”

Amanda sighed.  She wanted nothing more than to tell the representative of embassy security that the party was going on come hell or high water, but she knew that was not a responsible choice under the circumstances.  “Please debrief Sarek and me more thoroughly when we arrive. I see the aircar coming already.”

There was a brief pause.  “I trust the ceremony was successful?”

“It is accomplished,” she said, more formally.

The voice on the other end of the line grew uncertain, “I guess congratulations are in order, then?”

“Yes, Danny, congratulations are appropriate.  See you soon,” she said, then cut the connection.  She looked around again, checking off each person she felt responsible for.  Solomon was already climbing into the aircar with Sarek and Malkie. Birdie and Eli were…

“Amanda!”  Birdie’s voice startled her.  She turned around and was smashed into a hug.  “Are you all right?”

She nodded.  “You?”

“I don’t know.  Let’s get over to the embassy.”

The two women hurried over to fill the last seats in the aircar.  Eli was already inside, curled up next to Malkie. The rest of Sarek’s relatives were being escorted in a second vehicle to be debriefed at the embassy.

In retrospect, she should have expected something to happen during the ceremony.  Clearly I-Chaya had. It was getting more and more difficult to justify living here, in the shadow of these increasing attacks on the alien quarter of Shikahr and on their family in particular.  She’d gotten so she reported the ugly and threatening notes to security almost routinely. The kids’ school had increased security in stages. They didn’t go places without escorts anymore.

Her eyes were burning.  She didn’t know how it came upon her so suddenly.  Exhaustion had crept up slowly, over months: The Healer who had all but charged her with neglect for not having Spock’s brain restructured to Vulcan norms.  The conversation in which she’d had to convince Sarek they were doing the right thing for him. The woman at the Zen garden who took her son home the moment she had arrived with Solomon.  The poisoned leaflets. The extra security at the Montessori school since the poisoned leaflets. The graffiti, or more accurately, vulcan style graffiti, calligraphed strips of paper with quotes from ancient scholars the Purity extremists had adopted as their own, left draped across the embassy walls and around their home, even occasionally inside their home.  

If I-Chaya hadn’t been there today...her mind brought forth an image of the children, slashed by the ahn woon, lying in pools of green and red in ruined finery and she broke down, her sniffles growing in seconds into deep, racking sobs she couldn’t bury any longer.  She spared a thought for the driver, who was probably judging her right now, but she couldn’t make herself stop crying like she usually could.

She heard the click of a restraint being unfastened, then the rustle of Vulcan dress robes, crisp like taffeta.  Birdie moved away from her, leaving an empty space, filled in a moment by Sarek’s warm presence, an arm sliding about her shoulders. She sagged against his body, hearing him click his restraint into place, always conscientious.  His fingers rested on her cheek and temple, a question in them, and she nodded a little, still sobbing too loudly for the small space and at last he was  _ there _ , not pressing her to be silent or pulling her away from where they were, but just being there in her sadness and frustration, matching it with his own.  Her sobs died away in a minute, dissolving slowly into a quiet sort of weariness.  _ I’m tired, Sarek _ , she told him.

 

*

 

By the time they landed in the embassy courtyard she was as presentable as she could be under the circumstances.  Security led them into the conference center, where she was absurdly surprised to see the bouncy castles, two of them, one a sort of obstacle course with a slide and the other a smaller, simple cube shape.  Lala bounced merrily inside, while Spock appeared to have drifted into a corner, where he sat, bouncing experimentally on his bottom. She could almost see him taking mental notes.

To her surprise, the obstacle course slide spit out a child.  Michael righted herself, slid down out of the structure, and ran back around the back side for another go.  She hadn’t expected any guests, but given that Jeff worked for the embassy, he may have gotten an exception to bring Michael by.

There was nothing she wanted to do more than scoop Spock up into her arms and hug him, but she wasn’t in any condition to subject him to her current state of mind.  Sarek approached behind her, close enough that their clothes flowed together. She worked a hand behind her back and he took it, pressing it to his abdomen such that no one could see it through the folds of their robes.  There were long, dull ceremonies during which they had snuck kisses surreptitiously in this manner and she had tried to cause him to lose his composure This time, they clung like lost children.

She looked up to see Eli coming down the slide, arms and legs wheeling wildly.   Sol and Malkie sat at the top of the slide, Malkie giggling at her father’s antics and Sol failing to suppress a smile.  Birdie approached them. “Come join us by the cake.”

They walked over to the table with the cake and sat down with Birdie along with Jeff and Amy Burnham.  Amy waved Eli over the next time he appeared at the bottom of the slide.

“How are they?”  Amanda asked Eli.

“Hanging in there.  We’ll have to keep a close eye, though.”  He turned back to check on his daughter. Amanda followed his gaze to where the two of them sat in the pit at the bottom of the slide, their smiles replaced with pensive expressions.

Jeff began without preamble.  “Sarek and I have been in negotiations to expand the research facility at Doctari Alpha into a permanent joint Human-Vulcan colony.  Amy and I are moving there permanently in a week, and we could use teachers like you two,” he indicated Eli and Amanda. “Birdie, we could use an ecologist to help us ensure that our research isn’t causing undue damage to local ecosystems.”

Birdie turned to Eli.  “I want to go,” Birdie said without hesitation.  “I don’t feel safe here anymore.”

Amanda turned to Sarek.  “Your position,” she said.

“I can be assigned to the embassy on Earth.  We could divide our time between assisting in establishing the colony at Doctari Alpha and an embassy residence on Earth.”

“You wanted a Vulcan upbringing for the boys,” she noted, playing Devil’s Advocate.

“Which they can receive on Doctari Alpha and are not effectively receiving here, where they are told that they are not truly Vulcan and never can be.”  He paused. “And they certainly cannot if the trend toward violence against our family reaches its logical conclusion.”

Eli nodded grimly.  “People won’t take the situation seriously until someone dies.”

“Are we handing the Purists a victory if we leave?” Amanda said.  Someone had to say it. As much as she longed to get her children out of harm’s way, she didn’t want to set back Vulcan’s slow and hesitating integration of the infinite diversity they or at least some of them, she corrected herself, looking at her husband, claimed to prize.

“We are accepting a temporary diplomatic assignment, assisting the colony’s efforts to integrate their research programs,” Sarek said.

Amy Burnham said, “We’re leaving in five days on the monthly transport.”

Eli grimaced.  “That’s short notice.”

Spock slid out of the bounce house, looked around the room, and shot toward Amanda.  He

stopped to grab the edge of the table and pull himself up so his nose nose just cleared the table top.  From where she sat, Amanda could see the yellow earplug poking out of his left ear. They didn’t block all sound, but muted the pitches that bothered Spock most, and worn for a few hours a day were not going to damage his hearing.  He stepped back from the table and signed, “I want a piece of cake.”

“How big?” she asked.

“As big as my….foot.”

She patted the seat beside her and cut him a slice of carrot cake, peeking down at his slippered foot for reference.  He climbed onto the chair and proceeded to pick the cake apart with his fingers, but, she noted, he conscientiously stuck each piece of cake onto the fork before bringing it to his mouth.  So, progress.

He paused in his systematic demolition of his cake to sign, “Look, a pinwheel!”

Amanda followed his gaze to the large exhaust fan set into the ceiling on the conference center.  “Yes, that is a big fan. It keeps the room cool.”

“How?”

“Do you want the short answer or the long answer?”

“Long.”  Of course he did.  He was Spock, after all.  Paradoxically, the earplugs made him better at understanding speech; his receptive language skills had exploded when they started using them.  The thought gave her pause. The earplugs had been one of T’Zir’s many brilliant ideas for helping Spock organize his sensory tracts and moving to a small research colony would make it nearly impossible for her to continue working with him.

“Mother.  Explain the fan.”  Spock had leaned into her personal space, signing emphatically with cake smeared fingers.

Amanda handed him a wipe for his fingers, then continued.  “Right. Do you see the little openings on the walls, down by the floor?”

Spock searched the room, his eyes lighting up when he saw them.  Amanda continued. “The fan spins and pulls the hot air up through it and outside, then the cool air comes in through the vents on the walls to fill the space.”

“Why does it spin?”

“The solar cells on the roof power the fan.”

“How?”

She looked over at Sarek, who had paused in his conversation with Jeff Burnham.  “Think you can explain photovoltaic power cells to a two year old?”

“To what level of detail, precisely?” Sarek replied.

“Until he loses interest.”

The change in the set of Sarek’s shoulders might have been a sigh.  “Our son’s communication bears little resemblance to any known signed language.”

“He’s stubborn.  And resourceful. There’s a spreadsheet of all his signs on my data pad.  Under ‘Spocklish.’”

Sarek turned toward the expectant gaze of his toddler.  Amanda turned back to her friends. “Traveling with Sarek on his diplomatic missions again appeals to me.  I’ve been staying here on Vulcan full time mostly so Sol’s schooling wouldn’t be interrupted. What do you think, Eli?”

“They need teachers for the school.  We’d have our work cut out for us, educating classrooms full of scientists’ kids.”

“We teach diplomats’ kids now.  Professional negotiators from the age of five.”

“You have a point.”  Eli took Birdie’s hand and squeezed it.  “We’re in.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. Doctari Alpha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The family relocates to Doctari Alpha. Really just fluffy fluff.

“I-Chaya will be accompanying us to Doctari Alpha.”

Amanda looked up from her packing. Three Vulcan assistants were scattered about the house, placing the family’s critical belongings into crates for the move, but there were some things she felt more comfortable taking care of herself. “Does he understand that Doctari Alpha isn’t on Vulcan?”

“To the extent that it was possible for me to convey, yes.” Sarek sounded resigned. 

She lay down the perfume bottle she had been wrapping and crossed the room to lay her head on his shoulder and capture his fingers briefly, checking to be sure the other Vulcans weren’t looking before pressing them to her lips. “And he understands that he’s going to have to ride there, in a tiny room, on a courier ship, for eight days.”

Sarek’s shoulders dropped. “As I said, I conveyed the situation as clearly as I could. He will not be parted from his children.”

“His children, are they now?” She turned Sarek to face her. “No, he’s right, they’re his, we just borrow them from time to time to ensure they don’t grow up entirely feral. You have tasks to complete at the embassy. I can take care of arranging for a berth and supplies for I-Chaya.”

“You are as busy as I. You would not have requested my assistance if…”

“If I could talk to sehlats. You’ve talked to him. He’s as stubborn as the rest of your clan. I can handle the logistics of getting a 200 kilogram ball of,” she brushed at the golden hairs clinging to Sarek’s robes, “overprotective saber toothed bear cat onto a a courier.”

“I do not believe overprotective is quite apt, given recent events.”

Amanda acknowledged him with a tightening of the lips that wasn’t quite a smile. “Wait, there is one thing you can do.”

“And what is that?”

“Ensure that the personhood of sehlats is explicitly spelled out in the colony legal code.”

“Indeed.” He turned quickly, so that his robes swirled around him, a tiny vanity she appreciated as he left. 

She finished wrapping sealing film and packing foam around the perfume bottle and placed it in the carton on top of her hand mirror and the decorative combs T’Pau had given them on the occasion of their bonding, then moved on to the contents of the next drawer.

*

They were going to be on this courier for three more days. Spock, of the four children, had taken to travel like a trooper. He was on his knees on a couch in the passengers’ his nose pressed to the glassteel window, watching the stars streak by at warp. He dragged four fingers in parallel across the window, tracing their path in silent commentary.

“They do look interesting when we’re moving fast,” she agreed.

The older three, Sol, Malkie, and Michael, lay on their backs on the floor, heads together, looking up into a holoprojector that displayed an old Earth three dimensional sandbox game. Amanda had reluctantly loaded it up for them from her educational program files after they had rejected assembling puzzles, chess, and reading books as too boring. “The creeper’s gonna get me!” Michael squealed, and was quickly shushed by Malkie.

She curled up on the couch next to her younger son, watching his fascination with the stars. Oddly enough, the combination of low, constant hums produced by the ships power, propulsion, and environmental systems produced a white noise he found especially soothing. She wasn’t sure he had ever slept so well. “I live here now?” he signed.

“Only for the week. Then we will have a new house.”

“I live here now,” he repeated, more adamantly.

“People generally live on planets, not on spaceships.”

“I want to live on a spaceship.” He turned back to the window, that apparently being his final word on the subject.

“Maybe someday you will,” she replied, humoring him.

*

The shuttle set down at the tiny, makeshift spaceport, essentially just a field that had been covered with a simple pad of ceramacrete, the building a hastily erected prefab cube. Sol and Malkie exploded out of the door as soon as it opened, squirming between adults to pelt full speed ahead into a meadow that separated the landing pad from the town proper. To be fair, several days in a courier had made all of the children stir crazy, Sol more than the rest perhaps. She saw him fall flat onto his back in the tall grass, spread eagled, Malkie orbiting him in a wide circle, her arms stretched out like bird’s wings. She was glad she’d make them dress in hiking boots, heavy pants, and shirts that covered them from neck to wrists, the better to keep out bugs and itchy plants.

Spock leaned forward in her arms, peering up at the bright blue sky. His head turned, and he stuck both hands out in front of him, fingers spread like the spokes of a wheel, and twisted them back and forth. “Pinwheel!” he said, his voice not much louder than a whisper, but he said it, and without prompting.

She looked around to find the source of his excitement. A row of wind turbines bordered the southern edge of town, their huge blades turning slowly in a wind that was almost too light for Amanda to notice. 

Sarek came around the back of the shuttle, l-Chaya walking behind him with mincing steps, shaking each paw as he lifted it as though uncertain whether he liked the feel of grass beneath his feet. Sarek turned his head at the sound of Spock’s voice, eyes wide with surprise. He caught Amanda’s gaze and she nodded. “They are called wind turbines,” he said.

Spock nodded thoughtfully. “Win bins,” he repeated, again in that just above a whisper voice. He signed, “Are they machines or rocks or plants?”

“Machines. The wind catches the blades and turns. We use the energy from the turning to make other machines work.”

Sarek was getting better at the explanation thing. She set Spock down. He stood quietly at her feet for a few moments, taking it all in, then spotted Michael a few meters away, squatting on the ground, absorbed in some tiny and fascinating natural phenomenon. He toddled over to her and squatted beside her in that effortless way that adults could almost never replicate.

“Sarek.”

“Yes, Amanda.”

“I think I’m going to like it here.”

Sarek didn’t answer.

“I know it’s not forever, a year, maybe two, until the colony is well established. But it will be good for the children to spend some time somewhere that values their existence.”

He regarded the town with his gaze. “It will be good to devote some of my time to scientific pursuits again. In the name of diplomacy, of course.”

“Of course, Sarek.” He did not smile, quite, so she smiled for him.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of **the LLF Comment Project,** whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism (though I prefer to get concrit as an ask or message on tumblr)
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
> 

> 
> I'm on tumblr with the same username, and would welcome any additional hints on how to get images to post.  
> LLF Comment Builder
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> This author replies to comments.
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> Next planned update, Saturday April 14


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